


mountains must crumble

by NatureGirl202



Series: raindrops on the tongue, blood under the nails [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, i've had the last half written for a while though and i just wanted to get it out there so xP, kinda short but everything i tried adding to it didn't flow well and was kinda meh so yeah lol, not sure how i feel about the first half
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 07:10:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10381314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatureGirl202/pseuds/NatureGirl202
Summary: this is it, what she’s been waiting for: a confrontation with the man that killed her family.





	

**Author's Note:**

> some dialogue taken from the game.

“Well, look here: Bryce Cousland’s little spitfire, all grown up and still playing the man.” This is what she’d been hoping for, honestly. That she’d run into him, have him within striking distance so that she may slice open his guts and watch him bleed out on the floor. Even so, that does not stop the pounding of her heart nor the shiver that runs up her spine at his voice. It’s the voice she hears in her nightmares, the one that laughs in the background as she relives her family being taken down one by one. His shrewd gaze pierces through her and he knows which buttons to push, insulting her based on her womanhood and most of all, daring to speak of her family to her as if he knew any of them one bit. Her hands twitch with the urge to grab her sword. “I thought Loghain made it clear, that your pathetic family is  _gone_  and forgotten.”

She swallows back the bile forming in her mouth at the sight of this man, before taking a slow, deliberate step forward. Howe probably doesn’t see the threat, due to his arrogance, and remains in place. “Why betray us, Howe? My father was your friend!” Her voice wavers just the slightest at the end, but it seems enough for Howe to latch onto, that maniacal glint in his eyes growing.

“A clumsy appeal, child. He was a traitor to me and a coward to his nation. Trips to _Orlais_ , gifts from old enemies, all while I sank in obscurity. Your family squandered glory that was rightfully mine. How suitable that their deaths should raise me to the ear of a king. If you think you can take this from me, that I will allow it, you are very much mistaken.”

It happens very fast after that. Everyone lunges at each other, but Namera is zeroed in on Howe. She trusts the others to handle the guards, and those that attack her are quickly dispatched before she returns her sole focus to Howe. For his age, Howe fights quite well. His daggers move quick and sure. There’s a sort of deadlock for what feels like hours, but is barely more than a mere minute. Each of them are pushing and pulling, striking and dodging. Most would compare it to a dance, but there is nothing graceful about their movements. It’s _vicious_ , the need each feels for the other to _die_ , to _suffer_ , filling the air. It doesn’t even take long for Howe’s arrogance to slip away, for him to realize that she will be no easy kill. She’ll go down swiping and clawing if that’s what it take to bring him down with her.

She’s distracted for barely even a split second—Zevran makes a noise of alarm that catches her ear as he’s pinned by the remaining guard against the wall. The sound’s barely out of his mouth, though, before the guard is being smashed into by Alistair’s shield and Zevran’s released. The distraction is long enough for Howe to strike, though. She dodges, but not enough to avoid total damage. She can feel some skin on her neck split open, non-deadly, but painful nonetheless. She can’t pause or even acknowledge the pain, though, because she sees her opening as she dodges the strike. Slamming her shield up into his chin, she hears a _clack_ as his teeth slam together and he rears back in a stumble. She’s moving instantly with her sword. A slice across his thigh so deep it chips the bone, for Gilmore. A stab into his shoulder, straight through the collarbone, for Oriana. His ear is cut off for Oren and the howl of pain he gives echoes through the room and soaks into her bones. She slices straight through his throat for her mother and blood pours out and begins seeping into his armor. She rears back then, before plunging her sword forward into his gut for her father and giving the weapon a twist.

There’s a moment, a breath she sucks in, and a _snap_ inside of her. The hold this man has held on her for the past year is gone, dissolving into dust and she’s spiraling into the unknown as she pulls her sword out and watches as he falls limply to the ground. She vaguely recognizes that all of his guards are down now and her friends are standing back, allowing her this moment.

“Maker spit on you! I… deserved… _more_.” His words are gurgled, barely audible, but she hears them nonetheless. Her hands are shaking with her rage and she’s not sure what to think because he hasn’t bled enough, hasn’t suffered enough, but this is it. This is the end of Arl Howe and the desperate need for justice she’s had since that life-changing night.

“My _family_ deserved more, _monster_.” She can barely get the words out between the hatred and spittle in her mouth, but she manages. With that, she stomps her foot down as hard as she can on his head and she almost chokes as she watches his chest fall with his last breath.

It’s quiet then, nobody sure what to say. She’s not breathing, just standing there over the bloodied body of Howe. Her sword and shield are both held tightly in her grasp.

“My friend,” Zevran is the first to speak, brow furrowed with clear concern. “Are you well?” Her attention snaps to them. Her eyes are vacant and Alistair watches as she nods slowly before just as slowly holstering her sword and shield.

“Yeah,” her voice is strained and she clears her throat. “Loot them and let’s go.” They do so, but Alistair can’t keep his gaze off of her for more than a second. She appears mostly fine. There’s a new cut on her neck and a bruise forming on her cheek, but she’s had far worse. Her gaze is still vacant and she’s going through Howe’s belongings with oddly methodical movements, but she’s not breaking down.

They exit the room and they’re barely five feet down the hall before they all come to a sudden halt when Namera suddenly ducks into the nearest room. He catches enough of a glimpse inside to see that it’s a small storage room and fortunately not big enough to be hiding any guards or other hostiles. He glances to the other companions, to see them just as surprised by her abrupt exit. They both appear concerned, Zevran anxious as well. For good reason, really. Some random guards could walk by any moment. Wynne gives him a gesture, telling him to follow her.

He walks to the door and hesitates. Should he knock? He decides against it, opening the door just enough to stick his head in. He spots her immediately, curled up against a small space of wall next to the door. He steps into the small room, closing the door behind him. His focus narrows in on her, alarmed by the quick, shallow breaths that are leaving her and the tears trailing down her cheeks.

“I know. I’m sorry” she says between breaths as he kneels in front of her. The words are practically whimpers. Upon closer look, he can also now see that she’s shaking. Maker, what does he do? “Worst timing ever.” Her eyes connect with his then and there’s a desperate look in them as she gasps for breath. “I can’t breathe. Why can’t I breathe?” He doesn’t know, but his whole body aches with the need to help her, to do _something._ He almost calls for Wynne. Surely the older woman would know how to handle this?

“Just… take some slow, deep breaths” he advises, feeling utterly useless. He begins to demonstrate for her, deepening and slowing his own breaths, and watches as she visibly works on copying him. Finally, her breaths seem to even out, but she’s still got that look in her eyes and tears falling down her cheeks and she’s still shaking.

“He’s dead” she croaks out, confirming his suspicions as to what this is about. “He’s dead and they’re still gone. Oh, Maker, they’re really gone.” This isn’t like the other times she’s grieved her family, he can tell. This is it, the final step. This is when it hits her that it’s _real_. Her family is gone, brutally taken by that monster lying dead in the next room. The sobs he knows she’d been holding in are breaking free now and he can barely make out her next words: “ _Why_ won’t they come _back_?” Her wet eyes become slightly unfocused and he knows she’s no longer there; she’s reliving the night of her family’s deaths. “I didn’t tell them I loved them.” Her voice is strangled by her grief and regret. “They were dying and I had to leave and Duncan was pulling at me, but I could’ve- I should’ve-” A noise that speaks of nothing but pain escapes her and it rips right through him. “ _I should’ve told them I loved them **.**_ ”

He acts off instinct, reaching forward and bringing her to him. It’s clunky and awkward with the armor and can’t possibly be comfortable for either of them, but she clings to him instantly so it must’ve been the right move. Her body shakes with her sobs and he can feel her warm tears as she buries her face into his neck.

This isn’t enough for her. She needs, deserves, so much more from this world. More than darkness and death and such an unbearable weight always being put on her shoulders. She deserves so much more than _this_ , but for now, this is all he can give her.

**Author's Note:**

> Also on [tumblr](http://bxtgrl.tumblr.com/post/158617854717/mountains-must-crumble). <3


End file.
